


Secret Santa!

by glittersquid



Category: overwatch
Genre: Autistic Junkrat, Gen, M/M, Overstimulation, mall santas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittersquid/pseuds/glittersquid
Summary: This is for the Roadrat Riders Secret Santa exchange, for fuckistevvs!





	Secret Santa!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefuckistevvs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefuckistevvs/gifts).



The mall was larger than it seemed. It was carpeted with people, roaring with their noise. Reflections from glass storefronts doubled the tinsel and glittering ornaments strung on every railing. Twinkles and glints flashed from fairy lights. Awful Christmas music played too loud from the speakers. 

Junkrat’s eyes widened to the point of pain. He kept walking, but only because the crowd was carrying them along. 

Roadhog pulled him over and hugged him to his side with one arm. “You okay?

“Tighter,” Junkrat said, jaw clenched. 

Roadhog pressed him harder, holding him for a long count of ten. Junkrat began to relax, and at the end of it, he nodded. Roadhog let him go. He shook his head to clear it.

“Bit wild,” he said, grinning up at Roadhog to show he was all right now. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” 

Junkrat laughed, that unhinged cackle, and prodded Roadhog’s belly. “You’re the worst liar I ever met, Hoggie.”

Roadhog snorted. “Tacky."

“Me or this place?"

“Both.”

Junkrat treated everyone to his cackle again. A young mother shied away from him and grabbed her child. He flashed his grin at her, pointing fingerguns. She offered him a terrified rictus and fled. Roadhog laughed, a deep rolling ‘hah!’. 

They wandered about, letting the momentum of the shoppers take them here and there. Junkrat, over his initial freeze, wanted to get into everything. He stole a string of rainbow fairy lights, stuffing them into a pocket, where they dangled out and flashed red-green-yellow-blue against his shorts. Roadhog had to stop him from attempting to eat some tinsel. Instead, he fed him an enormous soft pretzel studded with salt. Junkrat loved it, relishing the crunch of the salt chunks.

“None for you?” he asked Roadhog

Roadhog tapped the surgical mask

“Roight. Can’t let any of these galahs see you in all yer glory.”

Smiling behind the mask, Roadhog bent his head to Junkrat’s. He nuzzled him on the bald patch behind the largest swoop of hair.

“Ah, get off,” Junkrat said, giggling. He ducked and waved him away as if he was a fly.

Roadhog chuckled and smooched his scalp, braving a swat to do it.

“Ya mug!"

Junkrat was about to go on, but sat up so abruptly he almost gave Roadhog a fat lip. He scanned the food court. Tables, plants, corners, benches—his bright eyes leaped to each in turn. 

“Time to go,” he muttered, standing up. 

Roadhog grunted. Together they went back to the anonymity of the crowd.

When they turned a corner into a new wing of the mall, they saw a forty-foot tall Christmas tree. Decorated with metallic ribbons, pearlescent orbs, and dozens of spindle glass ornaments in gold, it presided over a display of oversized prop presents. The presents bore giant velvet ribbons and shiny gold wrapping paper. Each one was three feet tall, arranged into an artistic tumble.

Junkrat’s pupils expanded alarmingly. “Roadie, is that real? I ain’t hallucinating?”

“It’s real.” Roadhog sighed. 

Junkrat tittered. Without looking away, he pulled a grenade out of a pocket. Roadhog tilted his head at him. Junkrat scowled. 

“Yeah, fine. We’re hiding.” He put the grenade away, then brightened up again. “Hey! It’s one of those mallsantas Bruce used ta tell me about!” 

Unlike most of the mall Santas Bruce probably saw, this Santa was a genuine older fellow with a real snowy beard and gold-rimmed glasses. He was chatting with the elves; the queue was empty, despite how empty the mall itself wasn’t.

“I’m gonna sit on ‘im.” Junkrat limped at full speed towards Santa, Roadhog drifting along behind. 

The elves, a pair of pretty young women, became consternated when they saw Junkrat on approach. They moved to intercept him, wearing the clenched fake smiles that was so common when Junkrat was around.

The one in green velvet said, “Sir—” while the one in white velvet tried to suggest with her body language that Junkrat was being unreasonable. He plowed through them both and flung himself in Santa’s lap.

Santa oofed. The nearby security guard got concerned, stepping forward, but Santa gestured her back and put his arms around Junkrat. 

“Well, hello there, little boy,” he said, with warmth. “What’s your name?”

“Junkrat!”

The elves froze. The security guard fumbled for her communicator. Junkrat pulled a horrified face. Roadhog closed his eyes. 

“That’s a wonderful name,” Santa said, focused only on the lanky pile of Junker in his lap. He shifted, resettling, and shot the security guard a glance with a tiny headshake. She lifted her hand from her comm, making worried eyebrows at him, but he smiled at her, and looked back at Junkrat. “I’m very glad to meet you, Junkrat."

“Yeah, uh, same to you, mate,” Junkrat said, gamely pretending like he hadn’t blown their cover. 

Roadhog snorted, amused. 

“And what do you want for Christmas?” Santa asked, jogging Junkrat. 

Junkrat opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again, taking a breath—but then closed again. He twisted up his face in thought. 

“I dunno,” he said. “I got everything I want. Roadhog, money, bombs. Yeah, that’s everything.” 

Santa nodded as if he expected that answer. “Maybe you’d like to tell me something I could give to other little children who are not so fortunate.”

Junkrat rolled his eyes. “You can’t give clean water to kids in the Outback.”

“Why, how kind of you to think of them,” Santa said, gentle. “Yes, there are many children suffering right now, aren’t there? Perhaps you were one of them, once. Perhaps they are just like you were.”

Junkrat stared at him. He wasn’t alone. Roadhog, the elves, the security guard--everybody stared at Santa. Untroubled, Santa went on, speaking with quiet sincerity.

“It’s the failure of grownups that children suffer such pain and need. It’s not their fault. Even if a child wonders if he did something to deserve it, he didn’t. He deserves all the love and care in the world. Even after he grows up. Perhaps as a grownup he doesn’t think so, he thinks he’s beyond such things, but he still needs them. Inside, he’s still a child who needs that love, even though other people see an adult, perhaps an adult they’re frightened of and don’t understand.”

The elves looked at each other, astonished. The security guard pressed her hand against her mouth. Roadhog didn’t move, although his eyes slowly grew moist.

Junkrat huh’d. “Makes sense, I guess. Never thought of anything that way.” He considered it, then said in a smaller voice, “Me other name’s Jamie. You can call me that. Only you,” he added, glaring at the elves and security guard, who all backed up.

“Jamie,” Santa said, “you are very brave to trust me with your other name. Thank you.” He hugged Junkrat, who jerked in surprise. 

“Sure,” Junkrat said. “You’re all right, for an old codger.” He patted at Santa. 

“I’m glad you came to see me, Jamie.” Santa, with a masterful motion, shifted Junkrat off his lap. “Take care of yourself, all right? Merry Christmas.” He smiled up at him. 

Junkrat jerked a thumb over his shoulder, at Roadhog. “That’s what I got Roadie for!” Laughing, he limped back to Roadhog, then peered at him. “Are you crying, Hoggie? What ya crying for?” 

Roadhog bent to kiss him, pulling up the surgical mask. Junkrat, delighted, flung his arms around his neck and snogged him back with enthusiasm. 

“You big softie,” Junkrat said, grinning fondly. “C’mon.” 

He tucked his hand into the crook of Roadhog’s arm. Roadhog pulled his mask back down. They went into the glitter and noise.


End file.
